


Living Proof

by helsinkibaby



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Age Difference, Community: comment_fic, F/M, Fluff, Het, Rare Pair, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 18:45:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8501146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: Caitlin is sick. Joe takes the day off to take care of her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/766414.html?thread=100499150#t100499150
> 
> Theme one day  
> Prompt : The Flash, Caitlin Snow/Joe West, One is sick so the other takes a day off to take care of their partner.

Joe ends his phone call, walks into the living room and tosses the phone onto the coffee table before sitting ever so carefully down on the very edge of the couch, careful not to jostle it too much. Caitlin is lying on her side, the throw that usually lives along the back of the cushions draped over her body. The only part of her that he can see is her face and it's pale and wan, drawn and pinched in a way that he hasn't seen since her powers first began to manifest. Her breathing is shallow, lips pursed and slightly open and he reaches out gently, touches her shoulder. Her eyes flutter open slowly and he holds his breath but when she smiles at him, he finds himself relaxing slightly - it doesn't look as if there's going to be a repeat of what had happened when she'd first opened her eyes, her hand flying to her lips as she raced for the bathroom. 

"I called Singh," he tells her quietly. "Told him I needed to take the day."

Caitlin's head moves to the left, like she's going to shake it, but her face suddenly pales another couple of shades, something he would have said wasn't possible. She closes her eyes, breathes in and out slowly through her nose and a good minute passes before her lashes flutter again and her brown eyes meet his. "You don't need to do that. I'll be fine."

Joe doesn't even try to stop his snort of derision, but he doesn't address the statement directly. Instead he goes with, "Well, I always heard that doctors make the worst patients... guess you're living proof."

Her eyes close again, a small smile playing around her lips. "I'm not so sure about the living part."

It's humour - gallows humour to be sure, but humour none the less - and he decides to take that as a good sign. His hand moves up to the crown of her head, strokes down her hair and she moves against his touch, snuggling into it like a kitten. "All the more reason for me to stay here and look after you," he tells her. "I make a pretty mean chicken noodle soup, for when you're feeling up to it..."

He adds in the last quickly because she gulps at the mere mention of food. "You really don't have to stay..."

"And leave you when you're this sick?" He has the strong urge to ask what the hell kind of men she's been dating that she'd think that sort of behaviour was acceptable but then he remembers Ronnie, remembers Jay, and decides that train of thought is best left alone. 

Her eyes meet his, suddenly steady, suddenly serious. "It'll pass," she tells him as she reaches out, takes his free hand in one of hers. Her is cold, but he knows instantly it's not Killer Frost cold, not meta-human abilities cold. This is nervous cold, and when she bites her lip, something unpleasant starts to unfurl at the pit of his stomach. 

"You've had this before?" It's the only thing that explains her certainty, but she bites her lip a little harder, tightens her fingers on his hand. 

"No," she whispers, "but it's called morning sickness for a reason."

The world around him suddenly stops moving. 

When it starts again, he's very aware of the pounding of his heart, the prickles of shock running up and down his spine. He sees the pallor of her cheeks, the first hint of tears in her eyes, feels the tremble of her body underneath his palm. And a dozen little things he hadn't noticed at the time suddenly coalesce in his brain to make perfect sense. How she'd been leaving her morning coffee untouched for the last couple of weeks, something he'd blamed on the two of them being lazy in the mornings and rushing to get out to work on time. How tired she'd been, falling asleep on the couch in front of the television most evenings, sleeping soundly enough that some nights he'd actually carried her to bed because he couldn't wake her. How she'd found Barry's cologne impossibly strong last week, when Joe hadn't noticed any difference. How her body had become slightly more sensitive to his touch, especially her breasts. 

His eyes move from her face to her midsection, covered by the throw and he has no trouble imagining what it's going to look like a few months from now. He can picture her clearly, lying there, big with their child and it's a thought that scares the hell out of him - there's no point lying about that, not when there's so much going on in their lives - but it thrills him too. 

Except Caitlin doesn't know what he's thinking and he realises he's been silent too long when a tear streaks a silver path down her cheek and her eyes are a paler shade of brown than he's used to seeing. "Say something." It's a whispered plea but he doesn't answer it. 

Not in words anyway. 

Her lips are cold against his but he kisses her until warmth comes back to them, until she winds her arms around his neck and he pushes the throw out of the way to trace a path down her body, stopping when his hand comes to rest over her stomach. Only then does he pull away, looks down at her and shakes his head in complete amazement. 

"I never thought-" Words fail him and he shakes his head again. 

"I didn't know how you'd feel..." Tears - liquid tears, thankfully - flow from Caitlin's eyes and he reaches up to cup her face in his hands, wipe them away with the pads of his thumbs. 

"I never expected to be starting all over against at nearly fifty," he admits. "But baby... I've never been so happy to be wrong." 

Caitlin laughs, happy and joyous, winds her arms around his neck and kisses him again. 

They spend the day cuddled on the couch, his arms around her, fingers tracing patterns on her stomach, making plans, dreaming dreams. There are, Joe thinks, worse ways to pass twenty four hours.


End file.
